


Baby don't take it so hard & please don't take it so bad (I'll still be thinkin' of you & the times we had)

by DiverVicky



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angry Roger Taylor (Queen), Angst, Background Relationships, Bittersweet, Boys Being Boys, Boys Kissing, Communication Failure, Don't Cry (Guns n' Roses), First Time, Friends With Benefits, Hurt Brian May, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, Kinda, Kinda?, M/M, Minor John Deacon/Freddie Mercury, Misunderstandings, Non-Explicit Sex, Non-Graphic Smut, Platonic Sex, Reconciliation, Sad Brian May, Why Did I Write This?, the smut is not that explicit but it's there, tipsy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29699982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiverVicky/pseuds/DiverVicky
Summary: Living with a gay couple really does things to you.There's questions Roger never thought he'd ask himself plaguing his otherwise carefree mind. It is Brian he goes to, in the name of "experimenting". It can't hurt to satisfy your harmless curiosity, right?Needless to say, it doesn't end too well.
Relationships: Brian May & Roger Taylor, Brian May/Roger Taylor, John Deacon/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 21
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueenFanatics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenFanatics/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Night To Forget](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17190470) by [QueenFanatics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenFanatics/pseuds/QueenFanatics). 



Roger was an _adventurous_ man. There was no denying that.

With that, too came many other virtues he was more than proud to acknowledge; such virtues, –by the very words of those nearest to him,– could be summed up as him being too reckless, too carefree, and even too _curious_ for his own good. And at the same time, thoughtless. He himself would like to differ on the reckless and thoughtless part; people were just jealous he _did_ enjoy life and youth while he still had it in him without feeling the need to overthink everything. Or at least that's what he told himself. Life was an adventure, and not knowing what would come next gave it excitement. That was his truth, and to his truth he held.

Until he didn't.

It had been stupid, at best; stupid _and_ avoidable. And it was, mostly, because of the one person he had dragged along to his mess. For the years to come, he would never be able to live down what his reckless curiosity and extreme experimentation got him into one night, when he was young and careless and _thoughtless._

It was a chilly, windy night in the midst of 1972. Brian parked his van, -though Roger and even Freddie would sometimes refer to it as _their_ van,- in the garage by his flat, and both him and Roger hopped out of the vehicle. During the whole ride home, Roger had been going on about this clingy, needy girl he had had the displeasure of having as an one-night stand almost one week before. The girl, apparently, was first called Linda, then Layla, then Lina, and eventually, the drummer just about gave up trying to remember her name. And, while Brian would have genuinely much preferred to have lemon juice sprayed into his eyes than having to hear Roger give rather scandalous details about his sexual encounters, there was nothing the guitarist could do about it. Freddie and John had wanted to have the flat for themselves for the night, and that gave Roger an excuse to stay at Brian's flat and _annoy_ him as much as he pleased, which did seem to be the drummer's favourite activity at times.

“And I’m tellin’ you, mate – you _had_ to hold yourself back with that girl! She was totally a _menace_ in bed but as soon as I so much sat up to pull my pants on she just – she _literally_ begged me to stay over and cuddle and touch-“

“Roger, I'm seriously considering leaving you here out in the cold if you keep on telling me about your- your-“

“my one-night _fucks_?” Roger smirked playfully.

“Yeah, _that-_ please, just… _don't._ ” he closed the garage door behind him, turning around to walk in to his home, with Roger quickly following behind.

“What are we having for dinner? You better cook something nice, 'm starving,” The blonde questioned as Brian quickly searched for his front door's key.

“Do I look like your personal cook, Rog?”

“Well, yes. _Duh_. Why else would I be askin'?”

Brian unlocked his front door and they both came in, relieved to be finally sheltered from the cold of the chilly night. Roger immediately walked over to the living room's couch, almost throwing himself on it, and let out an exaggerated, tired _ahhh_ of relief.

“Finally _home_! Whatever would I do without you, Bri?” The drummer quickly sat up, his eyes fixed on the door to the kitchen. “Oi! Will you not invite me at least a beer? Where are your manners!” He shook his head in clear disappointment.

“Will you allow me to at least step foot in my house before I do anything?” The guitarist went over to his kitchen and turned the lights on. Roger could hear him walk and then open the fridge, remaining silent for a moment. “I only have wine,” He called, slightly louder for the drummer to hear.

“Wine's alright, mate, the night is young! Come with me, I'm too lonely over here,”

It didn't take long before Brian came back with two glasses and a bottle of wine. He put them down on the glass table and then excused himself for a moment, saying he fancied a shower after such a long, tiring day of having to deal with his bandmates. Roger could hear the faucet running not long after, as he was pouring himself a glass of wine. It wasn't his favourite drink by far, but Brian could really be a boring grandma and was not one to keep lots of alcohol around his house.

After a few minutes, as he was finishing his third glass, the faucet went silent and he could see Brian from where he was, coming out the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. Droplets of water slid down his skin, down his lanky figure; he walked over to the second door to the left of the hall and closed it behind him. Roger figured he was going to put some clothes on before joining him.

Roger would have made a playful, silly remark after seeing Brian in that state had a weird thought not invaded his mind before he could even think of saying anything.

Brian was not _ugly._

It was almost a revelation. Which yes, it did really come as a surprise because Roger never really had such kind of random, sudden thoughts about his friends. For some reason, he couldn't help have his mind immediately wander to Freddie and Deaky. Roger could see that they both loved each other very dearly, (and could say, by his own _ear,_ that their sex life was pretty active). But then, they were _gay_. He himself couldn't fully understand what someone, be it a guy or a girl, found attractive in a guy to the point of actually seeking sex and even commitment with him. (That is, until he looked at himself in the mirror.)

But now that he actually sat down to reflect on it, (as best as Roger could reflect on such things,) suddenly he was hit with an unexpected wave of… _curiosity_. Because really; _what_ was it with men, that girls and gays found so irresistible? Were people just born that way, or shaped after experience? How did sex, _gay_ sex, feel like? Did it hurt? Did it feel amazing? Could he ever-

“Roger, did you just drink half the wine without me?”

The drummer was suddenly startled out of his self-absorption by the taller man, who, visibly annoyed, grabbed the bottle and filled his own glass, sitting down beside him.

“That's a stretch, Bri, I didn't even drink a quarter. And I haven't been able to drink anything at all for _three whole days,_ not even beer! Give me a break,”

“Be careful or you'll die of alcohol withdrawal after such long and tortuous periods without it,” Brian sarcastically rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his own wine and resting his back against the couch. “I read the news today. Apparently, a young boy had been playing prank calls around the East of London and asking people where to hide 《the dead body》. For the life of me, I cannot possibly understand how young kids today can even consider that _humour_ at all, you know?”

Brian then went on and on about how he himself fell victim to a suspicious prank call only a few days before and authorities did nothing about that. What _outrage_. Roger, however, didn't pay much attention to a word the guitarist was saying; he still did not understand whatever the hell had taken over his mind just a few minutes ago, and yet, he could _feel_ the same curiosity growing inside. It was sudden and really odd, almost scary. But before he could even blame it on the wine, a question left his mouth, interrupting the one-sided talk and leaving Brian visibly puzzled.

“Bri, do you ever think about Fred and Deaky?” He frowned, his gaze lost as he took a sip of his wine.

Brian just stared at him, blinking a couple of times. Wherever had that question come from?

“Well of course I think about them, Rog,” he finally answered. “and I think about you as well, and about my mother and father and-“

“Not like _that_ , mate, it's-“ Roger sighed in exasperation. “do you ever think about their gay… _ness?”_

Roger turned to him, sipping on his drink. This time, it took the guitarist longer to even think of an answer, obviously not expecting _that_ kind of question from the drummer. Brian drank from his glass.

“I- er,” the taller man cleared his throat, straightening up a bit on the couch. “I _have_ thought about those… _details_ , Roger, but that's their business and it's not my place to comment upon,”

“And what have you thought about it?” The drummer replied a bit too quickly, and as if he had not heard Brian say that he did not have the intention of commenting on their bandmates' sexual preferences.

The guitarist sighed, rubbing his eyes, obviously _done_ with Roger’s… everything.

“I _think_ that it's their business and they're free to do whatever makes them happy as long as they're not hurting anyone. Which they aren't.”

“Oh, they _d_ o what makes them happy, alright. At night, I can even _hear_ them _doing_ it!” He smirked and elbowed Brian playfully, thought the aforementioned seemed everything _but_ happy of hearing such intimate details. Brian finished his wine, becoming visibly disturbed by the blonde’s comments.

“Alright, you should _really_ stop drinking before you become too much and I’m forced to tape your mouth shut,” he tried to take Roger’s glass from him, but the drummer was quick to down what little wine was left in it. He burped and then looked Brian in the eye, as stubborn as ever.

“Whatever do you _think_ it is that makes gay sex so incredible for gay guys? I can't even understand! L-let me tell you this, Bri- there's nothing better in this world than feeling a girl's wet, tight, warm-“

“Okay, that's enough.” Brian made to stand up but Roger all but threw his own weight on him, laughing with wickedness, making the guitarist sit back again.

“There's a thing or two you have to learn if you wish to someday actually pick up and _shag_ a girl, mate! You've got to stop being such prude! Or do you want to remain a hopeless virgin for life?”

“Firstly, get off of me. Secondly, I'm not a virgin. Stop saying I am. Thirdly, I'm, in all honesty, surely _not_ interesting in… Picking a girl up and just… having sex with her, for the sake of just doing it. I'm not that empty, Roger. Wouldn't you rather she be someone you actually know and trust, someone you can actually begin to explore yourself with? And the other way round? Something more meaningful than just sleeping around?”

“… No? Why would I ever want that?”

The taller man groaned in frustration, rubbing his temples for a moment.

“You never really know if you'd like or dislike something if you never even make a move to _try_ , Rog, and maybe you should _try_ and move on to less empty sexual relationships.”

“Says the one who's too shy to even _try_ and pick up a girl who's obviously flirting with him at the club!”

“No, I'm– just _shut_ _up_ , Roger,“

“Make me,” he grinned mockingly.

Brian had no idea why he was even playing along, but he figured the wine had much to do. He served himself another glass, sighing in frustration, and the other man helped himself a glass as well. Roger seemed to, once again, ponder deep in thought. _Something quite unusual for him,_ thought Brian. It couldn't be anything good.

Suddenly, an idea, -a very crazy one,- crossed Roger's mind for a second, and he tried to shake it off in vain. When it became clear it wasn't going away any time soon, Roger sighed. He didn't even give himself time to think his decision through. _Was this the reason some people said he could be reckless?_

“Brian,” he called, his face turning serious. “I've been thinking.”

“That would explain the beads of sweat,” Brian took a sip of wine, ignorant of Roger's glare after his comment.

“Don't you… I mean, have you ever wondered how…” He hesitated a bit, insecure on how to proceed. Brian looked at him expectantly, downing his glass and then serving more wine in it.

Roger drank his whole glass as well, desperately needing the alcohol to make him loosen up a bit more; he knew he was entering risky waters, though he was not exactly sure about where he was even going with all this. It was probably something stupid, anyway, and he forced himself not to give it much thought.

“Have you ever thought of… Let's call it _experimenting_ so as not so hurt your prude ears, mate. Have you ever thought of _experimenting_ out of your comfort zone?”

Brian actually seemed to ponder the question a bit. As he gave it thought, Roger played a bit with his hands, not even conscious of it.

“I have, yes,” Brian finally answered. “There was this one time when… I was younger. This girl invited me over to her flat.” Upon hearing this, Roger straightened on the couch, paying extra attention. “She offered me a beer, and I really was not fond of alcohol – But that night I had _three_ beers.”

Roger stared at him, expectant.

“… And then?”

“That was all. I had never drank more than _one_ beer, perhaps even a sip of rum, but when you're young and reckless-“

“Are you serious? And here I was, thinking you went and shagged her senseless! You totally _are_ a prude, mate!”

Brian nearly choked on his drink at that, coughing a bit before looking at the drummer in disbelief, blushing intensely at his words.

“Would you stop that, Rog? What even possessed you tonight?” Brian laughed nervously, though there was a hint of genuine concern showing on his semblance.

Roger just shrugged, turning away and drinking from his glass. They stayed silent for a moment, just drinking and admiring the floor.

“Brian?”

“ _Hm_?”

“You trust me, right?”

“No.”

Roger rolled his eyes, wanting to get to the point at once – But he didn't even know _how._ And Brian wasn't making it very easy.

“Please, mate. I’m not messing with you, I'm serious.”

Brian could only look up, puzzled, meeting the blonde's eyes. It was _very_ unusual for Roger to get like this.

Roger, by his side, could not believe he was actually going through with this. But then, Brian was of trust, wasn't he? He was more than indicated for this. The drummer really just wanted to try, to satisfy that weird curiosity of his, to _experiment_ – Brian should understand, he was the smart one after all. Roger would only give an idea, and if Brian refused, he’d brush it off with an _I'm just messing with you, mate, you should have seen your face!_ And a laugh. Yes, that should _totally_ work.

Right now, he wanted to take that risk.

“You said earlier that you preferred to _experiment_ with someone you know and trust, am I right?”

Brian slowly nodded, waiting for him to proceed.

“And then you also said that- that you'll never actually _know_ if you like or dislike something if you never make a move to try it.”

“You seem to have developed a very good memory as of late, Rog,”

“ _Shush_ , let me speak! You’ve got to trust me on this, alright? Please, that's what I'm asking of you now.”

Whatever had possessed Roger now?

Brian stared at him for a moment, only to sigh in resignation.

“I do trust you, Roger. Please, go on.”

“A-and promise you won't get mad.”

“I promise I won't get mad. Can you _please_ tell me what's this all about? You're just worrying me.”

The blonde played with his fingers a bit, scheming his next move in his mind. He then looked up.

“Don't you ever feel curious about how gay sex works?”

Brian remained silent for a moment, not able to correctly process the question.

“… What?”

“What you heard, Bri, I'm not gonna repeat it!”

Brian looked down, clearing his throat, feeling quite nervous about the whole situation. Still, he wanted and even _needed_ to know what Roger had in mind. He couldn't help but ask.

“Why are you asking me these things, Roger?”

“Just say yes or no! Have you ever been curious about that?”

The guitarist didn't even know what to say to that. He shifted uncomfortably, scratching his head.

“I-I guess? I-I don't really know. I _have_ wondered about the, erm, mechanics of it – But not _that_ often,”

Roger just nodded, looking down for a moment, deep in thought.

“I was just thinking,” The shorter man began. He could almost _hear_ his heart pounding against his chest. “If we're both curious about it, and we're _sure_ we like girls, and we both think that we've got to try these new things with people we know and trust just for the hell of it, just to see how it's like…”

He looked at Brian expectantly, looking for his reaction, expecting maybe the worst.

The guitarist only stared at him, in obvious confusion.

“Oh for _fuck's sake_ , Bri!” the blonde groaned, raising his voice in exasperation. “I want us both to experiment it _together_!”

Silence.

One could hear a pin drop in the room. Brian repeatedly opened his mouth to speak and then closed it, visibly on a loss of words.

“Are you- Roger, I'm- are… are you,” He stuttered a bit. Closing his eyes for a moment, he briefly laughed, nervous and in disbelief. “A-are you really asking me what I think you're asking me?”

The drummer could only nod, not ever looking away. He was nervous, _yes_ , and just about expected Brian to freak out and kick him out of his flat; it was too late to take back what he had just said.

However, the taller man only seemed to process what he had just been told. Brian turned away. There were thousands of questions flooding his mind. Was Roger really asking this of him? Why was Roger asking him to do… _that_? Was he joking? Was he serious? How did he even answer to that?

He decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Knowing the drummer, he was most probably just messing with him. Hesitating for a few seconds, he continued, carefully.

“Why would you want to do that with _me_? I-I mean, you know really well I don't judge your choices. Well, not _always_. Sometimes I-I don't judge you. Really. But… why _me_?”

This time, it was Roger's turn to look at him with disbelief.

“Do you hear yourself? What did you say just a few _minutes_ earlier, Bri? Experimenting a bit with someone you _know_ and _trust_. Trying out new _things_. It doesn't- it doesn't have to be _so_ deep, you know?”

Brian’s stomach dropped. He had been expecting, _wishing_ for Roger to laugh on his face and reveal it had all been a joke, but he knew Roger. He _was_ serious. The guitarist was obviously still having a hard time believing the situation he was in all of sudden. With _Roger_ , of all people.

“B-but… Wouldn't that make us…” He couldn't finish that sentence. Couldn't bring himself to.

“ _Gay_? But of course it would _not_! Brian, I would’ve thought you were at least smart enough to know what experimenting means, mate, but your brain really has been malfunctioning lately.”

Still, Brian was still very hesitant, rightfully maybe so. This wasn't how he imagined his night ending. _At all_.

However, he could not help but feel rather self-conscious when actual curiosity started building up in him. Maybe it was the alcohol – But what if Roger was _right_?

He had never really given it much thought, that whole gay matter. Even when he first found out about Freddie, he was nothing more than supportive of their friend, even if he didn't fully understand his sexual preferences. He _did_ think and wonder about the singer's preferences for a while, but then just decided to let it go, because Freddie was so much more than just his sexual orientation. But right now, he couldn't help but go back to that.

In the fields of science, students were widely encouraged by great teachers and even their scientist forefathers to be curious, to wonder, make questions and pursue answers through experimentation, trial and error; though this really wasn't an all-time physical or generally mathematical conjecture to sit and solve. This was about _gay sex_.

He was clearly very troubled and couldn't believe he was actually giving it thought, pondering and reflecting on it, instead of saying _no_ immediately and pushing the matter away where none of them both could ever touch it again.

Still, he couldn't help but ask. He could already feel his face burning up. Brian could feel the fire spreading on his face, blushing so hard, and he was sure he looked like a tomato left to the sun.

“But Roger, if- say… if we did _that_. Wouldn't things between us be… _weird_ , afterwards?”

The blonde downed his glass of wine, feeling himself begin to loosen up even more. He burped and then shook his head ‘no' at the taller man's insecurities.

“Bri, I have had actual friends-with-benefits who would beg to-“ He hiccuped, giving himself a moment to go on. “… Beg to differ. These things are _normal_ , it's not weird.”

Roger then sighed, trying hard to make his point across. It was difficult, the words coming out a bit slurred, but neither of them really noticed anymore.

“Listen, mate. I only ask we _try_. I really am curious and I know you are, too, but you wouldn't try it with a total stranger and I wouldn't take that risk, either. It's just friends trying out stuff. Many people do that and it's silly and _normal_.” He then smirked playfully, serving himself more wine and then serving Brian a glass, too. “you're just too much of a prude.”

The boys didn't even realize how much they had been drinking until they noticed the bottle was empty. Brian sighed, rubbing his flushed face and leaning back on the couch.

“And what if… what if I hypothetically said _yes_. What, then? What… what do _you_ have in mind?”

Roger rubbed his chin. He hadn't really thought much of _that_. Resting his head on the back of the couch, he stared at the ceiling.

“I guess I’d touch you?” Roger shrugged. It was easier to say than he thought, though the blonde really didn't notice the utter embarrassment in Brian's face as he spoke, his sight fixed on the drummer. “Not your cock, though. Or your arse. I don't think so. I’d go by what I'm more familiar with when I'm with girls. I don't know, I guess I would improvise as I'm going and see how it feels for the both of us. It's not like we're magically going to stop liking tits and vags, really. You and I have got the same stuff, it's nothing new.”

Suddenly, Brian had to admit begrudgingly, experimenting with Roger didn't really seem like much of a bad idea. He didn't know if it was because of the words that for some reason, suddenly seemed to make so much sense.

But he didn't want to give in so easily.

“I'm not so sure, Rog.” He sighed, rubbing his temple, and the drummer turned to him.

His eyes met the blonde's own and there was something there. He could not quite put a finger on what it was, but it seemed quite firm and _reassuring_. Rarely before had he seen that on the drummer. He didn't know if he disliked it.

“Bri. I _promise_ that, if you tell me to, I'll stop what I'm doing.”

The curly-haired man couldn't believe himself; couldn't believe he was actually considering it.

They settled in deafening silence for a while. Brian looked down to the floor, his brow furrowed. Roger was freaking out on the inside, trying hard to think fast and have something he could defend himself with. Brian's silence was alarming and even unsettling. The drummer's heartbeat started to _crescendo_ at an alarming rate. _Regret._ Brian obviously _thought_ he was a freak, and he would kick him out, and he would lose his friendship and-

Roger could not allow that. Quickly, he forced a smile.

“I was just jok-“

“I want to try,”

This time, it was Roger's turn to appear speechless.

Had he really just said that?

Brian _was_ totally serious, that much he could see, but he was still insecure.

“… Are you _sure_?”

The curly-haired man just nodded, but Roger could still see some insecurity on him as well. Still, it was understandable.

“Are you sure _sure_?”

“Yes, Roger.”

“Totally, one hundred percent _sure_? You swear on your mother's- _no_ , on the planets and the sun and the stars?”

“Please, quit that before I regret it.”

Immediately, Roger jumped up from the couch, taking Brian by surprise. Grabbing the guitarist by the wrist, he sloppily tried to guide them both toward the hallway, almost making them both trip over nothing and fall flat on their faces in the midst of their tipsy state.

“Calm down a bit there, will you? You will kill us before we even reach my bedroom!”

Neither of them _knew_ what they were doing, but they were doing _something._

They were young, tipsy and curious after all.

** … **

“Sit on the bed will ya,” Roger took the lead, as Brian awkwardly made his way to the bed and sat down at the edge, not knowing what else to do.

“Are you _sure_ you know what you're doing, Rog?”

Brian, naturally, couldn't help feeling a little anxious. Roger just shrugged, a smug expression on his face; a mask to the hurricane of nerves invading his mind.

“How hard can it be? Just a little bit of touching here and there to see how it feels and how much difference there is from a girl's body. And also to find out whatever it is that gay guys find so appealing about another guy.”

All of sudden, Roger cursed under his breath and the guitarist turned to him, curious about what might be troubling the drummer now. Before he could ask, though, Roger hurried toward the door.

“Will be right back, Bri! I, uh- forgot to wash my hands,”

And with that, he was gone. Brian could hear the loud, quick footsteps fading away with each passing moment. Then he heard a door briefly opening and then closing rather loud. He sat there alone, in deafening silence.

Had Roger regretted this? Did he just _escape_?

Brian just sighed, sitting against the headboard and hugging his knees, feeling like an absolute _fool_.

He found that it didn't really surprise him as much as it embarrassed him; he _had_ accepted Roger's… offer, and was willing to go through with it. Brian was supposed to be the one with a most logical approach, but tonight he had just proved otherwise. Roger had snapped out of his tipsy state and realized how absurd, weird, absolute foolish of a-

“I'm back!”

Once again, Brian all but jumped, startled, as Roger stormed into the room.

“I know you missed me, Bri, don't get too eager.” The drummer teased as he climbed on to bed with the taller man. “Well?”

Brian only stared at him, confusion evident on his expression.

“Well what?”

“Will you take that off? Or do I have to do that for you, too?” He pointed at the guitarist's button-up pajama shirt, and Brian looked down at it, his face red as a tomato.

Before he could do anything about it, Roger only rolled his eyes and moved forward until he was in front of him, his hand traveling to the first button on his bandmate’s collar.

“I-I thought you'd leave,” His voice was wobbly, uncertain.

“What?” Roger looked at him with amused disbelief. “I would never leave you, mate,” it was final.

Brian shouldn't have felt so reassured by that, but he did.

His skillful fingers started focusing on the buttons, working them open and discovering Brian's chest. It didn't escape his attention that Roger’s fingers were shaking slightly; perhaps the chill of the environment was to blame. Brian sighed and rested his weight on his elbows as Roger worked open the last buttons of his shirt. The guitarist didn't really know what else to do more than sit back and wait for instructions; this _had_ been Roger's idea after all, and he wanted to see what the drummer had in mind.

Roger slowly pulled his shirt off, freeing it from each of his arms and leaving Brian's naked, thin torso free to the view. His fingers were really _not_ shaking because of the cold, even if he did find the room rather chilly. To say that he was nervous, anxious even, would have been stating the obvious.

Brian was sitting against the headboard, right in front of him, and it took Roger by surprise when he finally noticed that he was basically kneeling between the guitarist's legs. The proximity was almost overwhelming, and to see his exposed skin so, so _near_ was unnerving to say the least. It wasn't the first time he had seen his bandmate shirtless, but it had obviously never been in these circumstances.

Too intimate.

However, it was too late to even reconsider their choice, and he quickly forced the very thought away. He didn't want Brian to see him so nervous and… insecure. He _wanted_ to do this.

Slowly, Roger raised his hand, guiding it to the space between Brian's neck and shoulder. He had to start somewhere. The blonde gulped, trying to keep himself steady. His gaze travelled the guitarist's chest and belly, not missing the way his naked skin shivered almost right away. Perhaps it was the fact that he had his skin exposed to the cool air, or the blonde's eyes on him, or both.

“You’ve got to tell me what’s the brand of the lotion you use, mate, I never thought you'd be so soft,” he teased, caressing the skin with his fingers, before sliding them down to Brian’s pecs. The guitarist held a breath, once again feeling shivers to the drummer's travelling touch.

So far, it wasn't really _terrible_ for the both of them.

His hand remained there, on the upper side of Brian's pec, clearly hesitant about sliding it lower. _What the hell._ He gathered courage and, holding a breath, slid his middle and ring finger down his pecs. Brian had to hold in a gasp as he felt the digits sliding down his sensitive nipple, realizing with a bit of shame that it was hardened from the shivers, goosebumps running down his skin.

Roger started caressing the guitarist's chest, feeling and detailing with both his gaze and his touch.

“You're just missing a pair of tits on here, Bri. And maybe a trim?” He smirked, and even through his nervousness, Brian could not help but roll his eyes in annoyance. However, Roger was _truly_ exploring the many obvious differences from the body figures he was used to caress and touch and squeeze. There was obviously no soft, round breast to lightly squeeze with his hand; there was, however, a lotta more hair, and the flesh was flat and harder. Brian was hairier than him, though probably not as much as Freddie.

“Lie on your butt, I want to try something.”

He supported his weight on one hand as he pushed Brian down from the shoulder, making him lay his head down on the pillow as the drummer towered above him.

“Roger, you can just say _lie on your back_. You know, like a normal person usually would.”

Roger smirked cheekily at Brian's annoyed expression, his breath trembling from the anxiety he tried hard not to let overcome.

“I'm too cool to be just normal.” he winked, trying to appear cool, and then placed himself between Brian's legs, sitting down on his own knees and placing the guitarist's legs up each around his waist.

The guitarist gulped, looking down at their new… compromising position, ( _oh my god oh my god his crotch is almost poking my-_ , _)_ and Roger could sense his anxiety right away. His hands automatically traveled to Brian's sides, caressing the skin, stroking him up and down in a comforting manner.

"It's alright, mate."

And it was rather a reflex he adopted with his past sexual partners when they were relatively new on the casual sex scene and visibly nervous. He always found a way to calm them before the fun began. He wasn't _totally_ careless. This small but kind gesture took Brian by surprise. He didn't imagine the drummer could be so… _gentle_ , when it went down to caring for his sexual partners. The soft touch and all the caressing served in giving him goosebumps, and he had to refrain from arching his back and leaning against the calming touch.

Brian was at a loss of words. And of action. He really, truly had not the slightest idea of what was even expected of him. He _had_ been involved in a couple of sexual relations before, but with _girls_. He had never been in this position before, _him_ under someone, _him_ under another man - never had he felt so… _submissive_ , for lack of a better word, -or rather enough clarity to think of a proper term-, and didn't even know yet if he disliked that or not. It was new, unfamiliar and strange.

Still, he decided to let Roger take the lead and see what came out of that. It wasn't like they were actually shagging or anything; it was just touch. Touch did not equate shagging; it was barely fooling around and trying it out with a friend who was (kind of) trustworthy. And he himself had said earlier, it was good to try new things out.

The drummer rested his weight on one elbow as he leaned forward a bit, giving them both a bit more proximity to each other and a better reach, and nearly lost balance and fell flat on his face as he did so. They were both still tipsy and it showed.

The guitarist was snapped out of his self-absortion when he felt a slight pinch on his right nipple, gasping and flinching at the sudden contact.

“Shit- sorry, mate,” Roger grinned, apologetically, “I just wanted to see how it felt like. Girls' nipples are usually bigger and… less hairy. How does this feel?”

Roger really sounded like he was studying for one of his biology tests. He rubbed circles on the hardened nipple, observing Brian's reactions. The guitarist’s breath quickened slightly, and he tensed up for a moment, not at all used to the sensation.

“I-it tickles and feels… _odd_ ,” Brian sighed, looking down at Roger's work on his nipple, blushing so hard that it almost reached his chest. “b-but not in a bad way…”

“Oh, so you like this?”

Brian's gaze shot up to the drummer, but before he could even defend himself with a well-thought answer, Roger again slightly pinched his nipple between his thumb and index finger, making the taller man let out a gasp.

“You’ve got quite sensitive nipples, mate, let me tell you.”

Slowly, the nervousness and initial insecurity started to slightly wear off, though not completely. Roger's gaze traveled up to Brian's neck.

“Can we try something, Bri?” He suddenly questioned, and Brian wondered what he had in mind now. He feared the blonde would ask to do something too extreme, not even daring to think of what it'd be, but before Brian could warn him away from his arse, Roger continued, almost as if reading his mind. “Don't worry, it's not like I'm gonna strip you from your arse virginity right now. I just want to try… a little something,”

The guitarist considered it for a moment, looking at the drummer with a bit of doubt. Finally, he resigned. How bad could it be?

“Go ahead,” he sighed, and Roger promptly leaned forward. It was a bit of a tricky change of position for Roger, though not the trickiest he had ever tried. He let the guitarist's legs slowly slide off his waist, resting on the bed, but still very much open for him. Towering just above the guitarist, making to lower himself down on him shortly. He did not lower himself entirely on him, and instead rested his own remaining weight on his elbows, a tad unsure about possibly crushing him, even though that was obviously a stretch. Somehow, the drummer made the missionary-like position work and soon they were comfortable again. Or as comfortable as they could bring themselves to be with the situation going on.

Roger stayed still for a while. Brian felt like his heart would pierce right through his chest, but he still managed to keep eye contact with the drummer, almost expectant. Roger just grinned at him.

“What's so funny?” Brian frowned, though he couldn't help but smile, confused.

“You're red as a tomato, Bri! I wish you could see yourself!” he chuckled, trying to joke the tension away, and Brian lifted an eyebrow at him.

“You're the one to talk.”

Roger also blushed intensely the whole time, so it was both hypocritical and really comical for him to make fun of Brian over it. Roger only shrugged clumsily, as the position he was in really didn't allow him to do much.

As the smile on Roger's face faded away, he slowly lowered himself on Brian, though still not completely. The aforementioned held a breath, gulping. Nerves once again rising both at the sudden proximity and at the uncertainty of what the drummer had in mind now. Brian sunk a little bit on the matress to the weight on him.

“Is this okay?” He asked under his breath, and Brian shuddered at the feel of Roger’s breath against his neck. “Or is it too heavy?”

Surprisingly enough, Brian didn't find Roger's weight on him too heavy to the point of being unbearable. He stayed still for a moment, his hand unconsciously grasping Roger’s arm, trying to get used to the other man's weight over him. It did feel kind of intrusive, but soon he found it was not _that_ bad.

“I-it's alright,” he muttered. “You may c-continue,”

Slowly but surely, the younger man's lips met the skin on the older one’s neck. He could feel the tickle of Brian’s dark curls against his forehead; he could _smell_ the floral scent of whatever his bandmate used to wash his hair with. His lips remained on the contrary’s neck, experimentally. The gentle touch of his lips lingered on the sensitive skin, barely touching at all, tickling like the delicate wings of a butterfly. Roger's warm breath against his neck only added to the tickling sensation, making Brian shudder and have goosebumps run through his skin. The aforementioned let out a shaky breath, his eyes closing at the funny, new sensation.

Brian's neck didn't really feel like anything out of the ordinary. Roger supposed each person would just have a difference, regardless of their gender. However, it didn't keep him from playing around with it a bit. He left a kiss on the skin, and suddenly Brian flinched away, letting out a chuckle under his breath.

“I-it just tickles, Roger, leave it,”

Roger wouldn't have none of that. With a playful smirk, he started to leave many tiny little kisses all over Brian’s right side of his neck, making the guitarist chuckle and squirm under him.

“Roger, stop that before I regret this!” Brian demanded in between chuckles, failing to appear serious, tilting his head in order to protect his neck.

Upon hearing this, Roger laughed out loud, but obeyed still. He lifted himself up with his elbows, his face just inches away from Brian, who was barely just catching his breath.

“What if I kiss you?”

This took Brian by surprise and he looked up, holding a breath, noticing how the drummer's eyes now seemed fixated on his lips. Brian unconsciously tightened his lips together a little bit, visibly unsure.

“I just wanna see how kissing another guy would feel like. Don't _you_ want to know?”

Though quite taken back, Brian had to admit to himself it was quite obvious that, when trying things like these with each other, there would be kisses involved. And Roger had literally just massaged his _nipple_ and kissed his neck. He was literally _under Roger._ He, too, wanted answers. Saying no to a little kiss would probably be too stupid, right?

However, the guitarist did take his sweet time considering it. He looked away, seemingly deep in thought.

“Come on, Brian, it's just a peck on the lips. Not such big of a deal. It's not like we're going to eat out each other’s mouths,” The drummer all but groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Oh my God, Roger, do you have to word it like that?” Brian exclaimed with a grimace, but then sighed, softening his features. “Alright. You can… k-kiss me,”

Roger nodded, and Brian immediately closed his eyes. He waited anxiously, not knowing what to expect, and tried not to reflect on the fact that he was on a bed doing things with _Roger_ of all people. He knew very well that if he truly thought on it, he would panic at the idea of having his annoying bandmate on him and all the touching and kissing and-

He froze when he felt the sudden, soft touch of someone's, -Roger's,- lips brush against his, barely making contact at all. Brian could feel _everything_. The drummer's soft lips barely pressing against his own, how he breathed against his face. The weight on him, his pelvis against his own was not helping at all. It was new, it was unknown, it was even _scary_. It was all too intense, all too _much_. He was kissing him. Roger was kissing Brian. _Roger is kissing me. Oh my god._

To Brian it felt like hours, but then, as sudden as Roger’s lips met his, they were gone.

Brian's eyes remained closed for a moment, and he tried to even out his breath, lips trembling, trying and failing to ground himself, pink flush spreading all over his semblance. It really had just happened. And he hadn't died. But of _course_ he hadn't died, it was just a silly kiss. Not that big of a deal. Not at all. Roger had seemed cool about it, why couldn't he be, too? No logic reason. None at all.

Initially he didn't even hear Roger speaking until the aforementioned started shaking his arm, calling for his name. Brian opened his eyes, looking up at the drummer.

“… stay with me, Brian, will you?” Roger let out a shaky chuckle, though visibly alarmed. “was it really _that_ bad? I didn't really think-”

“No, no, it was alright,” Brian shook his head, still attempting to catch his breath, but upon noticing Roger's questioning gaze, he quickly continued. “It wasn't that _horrible_ , Rog, that's what I'm saying. Just… odd. New. In the physical aspect, it didn't really feel too… _different_ , for a kiss. I-I think.”

However, both men had a really different concept of a kiss.

To Roger, it usually was meant to be part of the build up to the main act; tongue meeting tongue, eating each other out, sensual and devoid of any true depth and serving to build up physical anticipation for the main show, if there was any. The last time he could remember having given someone else a simple, shy peck on the lips was when he was nine years old and had his first girlfriend. Compared to his own experiences on kissing, this one was too experimental and silly and would even be _boring_ had he not been dying of nervousness over this being with another guy. With _Brian_.

To Brian, reserved as only he, kisses of all kinds were meant to be intimate touch with genuine meaning, something you gave to someone special. He didn't kiss often, but the few times he did over the years, it was because he actually _felt_ like doing so. The ultimate display of affection and trust. And lip kissing was only reserved to what few romantic partners he managed to tangle himself with through the years. Tonight, he had decided to give Roger his _trust_ , and this was the way he acted on it.

Roger retook his last position, sitting up on his knees again. Brian felt odd then without the chest-to-chest proximity. Suddenly, he could feel the environment’s chill attack his unprotected skin, but ultimately didn't comment on it so as not to embarrass himself. It was pathetic, really, to even give it thought. _Right?_

Roger’s limbs started protesting a bit. It had been a while. The younger man shifted his waist a bit, and did not expect Brian to let out a surprised gasp and look questioning at the blonde, full of surprise and alarm.

“What is it? Did I- _oh_.” Roger could now _feel_ what it was about. He let out a brief chuckle, shaking his head defensively. “It's a nervous boner, don't get too excited.”

“A-and _why_ would I get _excited_?”

_Oh God._

Brian froze, not being able to mediate any more words as he felt the bulge of the contrary. His stomach turned, but he didn't, _couldn't_ bring himself to do anything about it, to move away, to tell Roger to get off. Slowly, he looked up at the drummer, who too seemed troubled but wasn't doing anything to stop it either. _Oh God, why isn't he doing anything about it? Why am_ I _not doing anything about it?_

And Roger was _troubled_. With a pang of shame, he could feel his cock actually hardening against the contact. He figured he hadn't been with a girl in a whole _week_ , and his Rogerina was starting to protest with need. Apparently, the familiar feeling of finally being in such compromising position with someone else, along with the intense nervousness, helped wake it up. He knew enough of biology to know that it was a very natural bodily response, but then again, these weren't very natural circumstances between two _straight guys._

And Roger couldn't even bring himself to move away.

_What the hell._

It was all too sudden. It happened way too _naturally_ , as stupid and unbelievable as that would have sounded to him had he been thinking clearly. They stayed still for a few moments, but no words were needed. Their gazes met.

Perhaps they should have thought it through better, perhaps they should have had more self-control. Perhaps things would have gone better that way, perhaps they would have saved themselves much trouble in the future. Perhaps it was the wine. Most surely, yes – that was their truth and onto their truth they held. However, in the midst of the intensity of the moment and the weight in the air, they only found themselves defending their actions and masking their desire in drunkenness and in one reassurance that later on wouldn't be of much use, anyway;

This was a night to try out new things.

They _needed_ this.

Roger leaned down, failing to control his impulse, and briefly held his breath at the sudden feeling of his crotch against the curly-haired guitarist’s own. It felt strange, odd, almost _wrong_ , but, why, he couldn't bring himself to stop at this point. For a reason or another.

Things between them would be so weird the next morning.

** … **

Roger’s hips spasmed a few more times as the pleasure started to slowly wash off, the guitarist's long legs still wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. He collapsed on top of Brian, breathing heavily, sweat sticking blonde hair to his forehead as warm, sticky substance tickled his spent Rogerina inside his underwear. Brian was shaking under him, limbs turned jelly, muttering a delirious litany of “ _oh my god, oh my god_ ”. He could feel Brian's heartbeat against his own, hearts threatening to pierce their way out of their chests.

It was exhausting.

A wave of post-orgasm clarity suddenly shook Roger, at the realization of what had just went down. He lifted himself up with his arms, enough to be able to see Brian’s face, but the guitarist still seemed pretty out of it – his eyes were still closed and he was biting on his lower lip, trying to even out his breath. His curly hair was really messy and all over the place, in a way he had never seen it before, and he was blushing so _hard_ that shades of pink expanded all the way to his chest.

He hadn't expected Brian to be someone prone to have such intense orgasms. Not that he often thought of such things about the man, it just _really_ surprised him. It wasn't like him.

_Wait._

The drummer frowned when he noticed a wet trail dripping from Brian's eyes.

“Are you crying?” His voice came out deep and slightly coarse from their recent _push-up session_ , confusion all over it. Brian wiped at his eyes and eventually opened them, looking up at the drummer with an unreadable expression. Then he just shrugged.

“It’s- it's just… tears. I don't know, I guess it's the intensity of it all…” he said, looking away. “It… doesn't happen often.”

Roger's eyes snapped open in alarm, just as Brian turned to look up to him again.

“Did we really just…” Roger was almost terrified to finish the sentence, and Brian pressed his own lips into a thin line, not wanting to hear the rest of it. “… Did we really just _finish_ at the same time?!”

It was then Brian's turn to look at the drummer in disbelief, frowning.

“What-?”

“What you heard, mate! We _totally_ finished together,”

Roger let out a sigh of disbelief, lowering himself down from Brian and onto the other side of the bed.

“I never managed it with a girl, but with _you_ \- it just _happens_!” the drummer complained, in clear frustration.

“Is that really what troubles you about what we just did?”

Roger remained silent for a while, hating that he actually had to reflect on what they had just done.

“We totally just shagged, Bri.” He lamented, turning to him, and this time, it was Brian's turn to appear completely shaken to the core.

“Never again,” Brian muttered, mortified, and Roger had to agree.

**…**

Roger was eating lunch in silence. _Suspiciously silent_ , Freddie thought, as he tangled the spaghetti around his fork and brought it to his mouth.

John had prepared a delicious dish of spaghetti, tomato sauce and cheese – the bassist had put his heart and soul to it and, while both men reassured him that it had came out delicious, Roger had not even eaten a quarter of the food on his plate, a tired expression on his face as he played around with the spaghetti with his fork, resting his head on his hand, elbow on the table.

Roger, deep in thought? With a plate of food in front of him? It wasn't like him. At all. Only, if ever, when something bad was troubling him.

“Are you alright, darling?” Freddie finally asked, concern evident on his semblance, as both the singer and the bassist eyed Roger with curiosity and worry.

Roger simply shrugged, not once looking up from his plate.

He hated _everything_. Roger didn't use to trouble himself with senseless worry, was never even moved nor bothered by true inconveniences; overthinking ruined all fun. He stood by that, and by that he lived - and here he was now, overthinking even the fact that he was overthinking.

_What have I done?_

_Why?_

“Alright, dear, I can clearly see that you're not alright. I _know_ you. What's troubling you?”

His tone left no room for arguments. Roger thought over his answer for a while. He couldn't help panicking when he felt the two pairs of eyes on him.

Finally, he said the first thing that came to his mind.

“I was, erm- I was with this girl and... Finished too early. She… didn't like it.”

No more questions were asked that day.

**…**

While their encounter had been purely out of curiosity that quickly got out of hand, for the sake of finding out how it really felt like to be with another man and seeking out the answers to the many questions in their minds, both Roger and Brian just ended up with more questions than answers.

They hadn't suddenly stopped being attracted to girls and all of their attributes, and the thought of physically being with another man still did no more than cause them to cringe in clear disgust, and yet, many questions left unanswered flooded their mind after the fact. Why did they really decide to do _that_? How come they enjoyed it so much? Why did it escalate so intensely and so quickly? Why did they _let_ it escalate to the point of no return?

Unlike certain people, Roger was not someone to overthink things, but this time, there was a lot to overthink and to unpack. It had been _his_ idea after all, wasn't it? Did that mean he was bisexual, now?

Both their responses to their enigma were completely different. Roger decided to force it to the back of his mind, absolutely set on forgetting it and pretending nothing happened. At least, nothing of importance. He went out with at least ten girls the next week.

Brian, by his side, was very much set on trying to find some sense in the whole situation. It resulted in a lot of stress and overthinking and, when he least expected it, it was the first thing that came to his mind in the morning.

All the while, something akin to intense regret began to lure its way into the mind of one of them.

**…**

When Freddie all but forced Brian into his van and the guitarist had to drive them both to his bandmates' flat, (the singer knew very well he tended to have certain episodes when Brian truly felt unwell in the emotional aspect, and he was genuinely touched by his intentions of helping him out,) Roger didn't step foot out of his room while Brian was at the living room. He told Freddie he was sick; he covered himself in blankets, got his hair messy and even sneezed a few times, _-thank God for such special skill,-_ and left it at that. Freddie knew better than to bother him after that.

The three boys stayed at the living room, just chatting, speaking business and playing with Lily, and (not so much with) Delilah. When John stood up, stating that he would be cooking dinner for all of them, Freddie was quick to stand up as well and follow his darling into the kitchen, set on helping him out. Brian offered his help as well, (a very rare occurrence as of late, but he really _didn't_ want to stay alone at the living room) but as he followed the other two into the kitchen, he turned just on time to see Roger hurrying toward the front door of the flat. When the drummer noticed his presence, both he and Brian had a stare contest, before the drummer nodded goodbye, took his coat and quickly left.

Brian could only stare at the door, trying to keep at bay the wave of sadness that hit him. It was obvious why Roger kept avoiding him.

And here he was now, being avoided by the very friend who had reassured him that things wouldn't get weird between them afterwards.

 _Roger will come around eventually,_ he told himself, as he sighed and walked into the kitchen, where he found Freddie's idea of helping John out was by distracting him from the food with hugs from behind and kisses to his neck. _He just needs time._

When Freddie inquired him about that hickey on his neck, Brian couldn't find an excuse to explain it. His silence and the fact that he immediately blushed like a tomato was very telling; _he had been with someone._

**…**

“I swear, darling, I have _no_ idea where this fascination of yours with my sex life even came from!”

All four boys were gathered in the living room, playing bottle and just hanging out. It had been a week after _that_ night; Freddie had all but dragged Brian out of his home, insisting that he spend that evening with his bandmates, and Brian saw no more option than to comply. He had nothing better to do anyway.

And he wasn't about to childishly try to avoid Roger at all costs, when it was obvious that such thing was not going to work. They were _bandmates_.

“Well, it's not like I'm a stranger to it! Having to hear you and Deaky-”

Freddie kicked his leg and Roger groaned, glaring at him, whilst John just turned all shades of red and Brian prayed for the ground to open up under his feet and swallow him. He _really_ was stuck with them.

“It might be me, but I suspect you're just insecure because you would _obviously_ be a bottom, darling, when there is really... nothing wrong with that. I really don't understand why is that such big of a deal.” Freddie chuckled at Roger's grimace of disgust at this comment, the singer drinking from his beer with visible amusement.

Brian's gaze all but shot up at Freddie's comment, looking back and forth from the singer to the drummer. _Did he really just say that?_

Roger huffed, offended, glaring at Freddie.

“I would _not_ be a bottom, Fred. I would _give_! What makes you think I’d be on the receiving end? That's _so_ not me!”

“Maybe you could try it out and see how that turns out. Am I right, darling?” Freddie turned to John playfully, and this one just chuckled and shrugged, not wanting to be dragged into… whatever this was. “Actually, Rog, I seem to know just the right guy for you to start with!”

“And who is it?”

“You'll win his heart in a heartbeat!”

“Who. Is. It.”

“Well Brian, of course. Who else would it be?” The singer said causally as he took a sip from his beer.

All colour washed from Brian's face upon hearing this, and for a brief moment he locked knowing glances with Roger, but he managed to stay relatively calm. The taller man laughed nervously, rubbing his temple.

“Why _me_ , Freddie?”

“I can't believe you're even _asking_ , dear! You're both _obviously_ made for one another!” the oldest man teased, elbowing John playfully, and this one held in a chuckle.

“I-I don't know about that, Freddie,” John giggled.

“What do you mean, darling? It's true! Just look at them and tell me they're not made for each other!” Freddie was all but publicly laughing now, taking pleasure in annoying both his bandmates.

He was already having an inner crisis trying to validate his own sexuality and whatever was going on between Roger and him. His stability on everything related was hanging from a tight rope. That comment totally didn't help.

And Brian didn't know how to even answer to that, but Roger sure did. The drummer rolled his eyes and frowned in disgust.

“I'll have you know, -and I've already said this before,- that _if_ I happened to be gay, which I'm _not_ , Brian's like the _last_ guy I would ever think of shagging! Or dating! Or _whatever!_ That's gross, Fred, _eww._ ” the drummer shook his head in outrage, drinking from his beer. He couldn't believe Freddie was still playing around with that dumb idea.

The other two expected a snarky remark from the guitarist as a response, or at least for him to partially _agree_ with Roger on this one, but both John and Freddie were surprised to catch a glimpse of what seemed to be genuine surprise and _hurt_ flash across Brian’s face, before he cleared his throat and looked away.

He could hear Roger going on about something about cat piss in his shoes and how it ruined a date with a girl, but Brian couldn't really _listen_ to any outer sounds anymore. His brain blocked everything out as he sank deep in thought.

The curly-haired man couldn't believe his ears. Not that he ever expected Roger to go around screaming about having done _things_ with Brian on bed, but he also didn't expect him to react with such genuine outrage and _disgust_ at the mere idea of it. _After having done exactly_ that _with him._

Had Roger really despised it so?

And he had no idea why it seemed to affect him so much, but it did. Brian mentally cursed at himself and his absurd feelings. Before John and Freddie's puzzled gazes and Roger’s drunken ramble, Brian suddenly stood up and said his goodbyes for the night, saying he had errands to run the next morning and should head back; he finally left, leaving two of his friends sharing concerned looks about his sudden odd behaviour. Whatever had gotten into their guitarist now?

As he drove off, it began to rain, the raindrops hitting against the windows and turning the lonely night into an even colder, gloomier sight. Brian turned on his radio, already set on a station about the cosmos, desperate for the sound of another person's voice and the false, empty sense of company it might or might not bring. Hoping against hope that, for once, he have something to drown out his overwhelming thoughts.

_Why does it affect me so much?_

Because it was Roger.

He was tired of it all; Roger wasn't helping.

The drive back home was blurry and it wasn't because of the rain.

**…**

Tensions were escalating quickly in the studio and Brian was one cut away from grabbing his Red Special and abandoning altogether. Roger was once again complaining on the fact that he wasn't being given enough solos and all Freddie seemed to focus on was reaching the perfect vocals, no matter if that took like hundreds of cuts and no time for the other bandmates to even step foot in the recording room. Which was, of course, a stretch.

Never once did he mention his disdain for Brian’s solo being too long, even if that once used to be his biggest inconvenience. Nor did he even adress Brian at all.

It was time to pack up and leave, and Roger all but stormed out of the room, clenching his fists and ready to fight anyone who got in his way. Freddie was upset as well and all he wanted to do was leave, while John was just tired of his bandmates' bickering around, and his wrist ached. They all noticed this, even if he refused to admit it out loud.

Brian sighed, resigned. He had to drive everyone home so he had no more choice than to rush after his fuming bandmate, given that none of the others would. It took a while but he finally found the blonde a few blocks away, smoking a cigarette to calm his nerves.

They stood there in tense silence. The streets were completely silent and lonely except for the presence of both men, cold wind hitting their faces and shaking their hairs, the dim and yellowish reflect of a street lamp their only source of light.

Shivering to the cold, Brian shielded his bare hands inside the pockets of his vest, greatly regretting not having brought his coat with him.

“We’ve got to return, Rog. They must be waiting for us.” He finally broke the silence, but both men knew very well that the tension between them both was a very different matter.

The drummer only let out a laugh, though there was nothing humorous about it. He threw his cigarette to the ground, stepping on it and crushing it under his shoe.

“It has been killing your mind, hasn't it, Bri?” He muttered, not once looking at the guitarist. The aforementioned didn't even need to have it specified; he knew very well what Roger meant by that.

_(Even if what's been killing my mind was not what we did together, but rather, the way you chose to behave about it. The way you chose to behave with me.)_

What he didn't like was the time and place the drummer finally decided to bring it up, almost a week after the fact, in the streets where anyone could pass by and hear them at any given moment.

“I wouldn't really call it… ‘killing my mind'. And I truly don't want us to speak about it right he-”

“But I do.”

Roger turned to him, taking a defensive stance. Brian sighed, trying to keep calm. For once, he looked at Roger, _really_ saw him; he looked tired. Like he had been working tirelessly day and night; working his thoughts. Before Brian could say anything, the drummer spoke again.

“It was maybe the third or even _second_ worst mistake of my life, Brian!” He snapped, passing a hand through his blonde hair, groaning in exasperation.

Brian again looked up, and this time, he was genuinely confused.

“Mistake? What part of it was a _mistake_ , Rog? Because I can't seem to recall you _accidentally_ asking me to do things together and then _accidentally_ turning those things into a straight up sexual encounter. We did what we did did together; you gave me an idea and we chose to act upon it because we _wanted_ to. And that isn't a crime… that isn't a sin. And I don't want to negate what we did.”

Brian’s voice was low so as not to risk being heard by a passerby, but still remained firm. Roger let out a huff, looking away.

“Is that so? Well, it does sound to me like you've just given it too much _meaning_ , Brian, you give it too much importance.” His tone was harsh, and Brian found himself flinching at the words. “It wasn't supposed to be _anything_ , you know? Nothing of importance to us. A silly experiment thing we would both forget about in a matter of days and move on. And I _was_. But I know real well that you were still stuck on that, because I know you. By giving it thought, you give it _importance_ , Brian, you give it meaning. But _whatever_. If you wanna torture yourself with it, that's on you for all I care, mate.”

Brian was shaken, his mouth opening and closing like that of a fish. No words. First, Roger insists on touching the subject, and now _he_ is the one giving it too much importance? How could he say such things?

He knew Roger was still upset about the recent fight back in the studio, and Roger was projecting, and most probably attempting to reassure himself that their little ‘experiment' didn't mean anything. That it didn't say anything about his sexuality. He knew that very well, because he knew Roger very well.

However, that did not make it hurt any less.

“Please, do enlighten me. When, exactly, did we agree on it having no true meaning for either of us? What were my words that night, Roger?” He stepped closer, not even trying to hide the evident hurt in his expression and his tone. That really took Roger by surprise. “I don't know about you, but to me, it _did_ have a lot of meaning. Because, like I said, I _knew_ you and I _trusted_ you like no one else. I gave you my trust. It wasn't as empty as you wish it was, Roger. I wouldn't have done such a thing with anyone else. It had importance and it had meaning because it was with _you_. But I can now see that you never really reciprocated that, or did you? No. I guess not. It didn't really matter, _I_ didn't really matter. I only meant an experiment to you, something to use only to satisfy your own curiosity and then forget all about what we did. To hell with our friendship, right? Screw Brian. Because _that's_ your sense of intimacy, your empty and careless concept that _I_ could never grasp. I can see that now.” He struggled to force a shaky smile, but it was completely devoid of emotion other than hurt. “Thank you for clearing things up. We'll wait for you in the van.”

He turned and walked away, never looking back, tears of anger and hurt threatening to spill. Brian left, with his head down, a very much speechless and remorseful Roger behind.

And to think he ever thought he meant something.

** … **

“Sit down you two before I’m forced to tie you both to the chairs. Chop chop. We _need_ to have a talk, darlings.”

**_ To be continued. _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on QueenFanatic's A Night To Forget, maybe the first fanfic I read of this fandom! (Author told me it was okay to post this, and to be honest, I'm a little insecure about how it turned out but I also didn't want it to sit in my between my forgotten docs forever.) Anyone is free to interpret it as a different universe than in A Night To Forget, as the characterization in here didn't turn out to be quite faithful I admit.😔 ANTF was of great influence to a new fan like me in the fanworks respect, and I'll admit, I had been playing with the idea of Maylor in that 'verse for quite a while, even if it wasn't romantic or even functional at all, as you can see here. Because it wouldn't be. Realism? What's that? 😆 
> 
> This is the first fanfic I ever wrote about Queen. I started writing it a while ago, when I was barely around the 50th chapter of that fanfic. My knowledge on them is kind of limited - in no way is it comparable to the marvelous original work I based this off, lol♡ I'm not the most experienced writer out there, and English is also not my first language, so do forgive me for any mistakes! I'm both excited and nervous to post this, to be honest. I'm obviously considering a second chapter to resolve and close the plot to this mess my writing fingers made. Comments are very welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of fixing to do, but apologies have to come first. It's hard to get them out. Freddie helps.

_The drummer's breath reeked of alcohol, his legs wobbly and steps sloppy. It took Brian a very loving amount of patience, balance, and pure strength of will, (and not so much of his thin arms,) not to leave the drunk drummer to reach his bedroom by himself. Brian briefly took amusement just by imagining Roger walking into a door on his way to his bedroom, or stumbling into the bathroom instead. He'd have it coming._

_Four days had passed._

_To think that now, the only kind of proximity he had with his best mate, (that is, the only proximity that his best mate allowed him now,) was that of having to basically carry him safely to his bedroom, drunk his arse off and completely unaware of his surroundings. Like he had done plenty of times before._

_Now it seemed to him that drunk Roger was the only loving Roger._

_Last time, their proximity had been in extremely different circumstances. Brian forced the memory back only for it to backfire. Physically, he could_ feel _it._

_With clumsy movements himself he somehow managed, all with a single arm, to open the door, turn on the lights and walk over to the drummer’s messy bed, holding him in near painful closeness with his other arm. Roger giggled the whole time. Brian couldn't care enough to know the reason why._

_What he knew was that Roger was out and drinking to forget._

_With the gentle care one would treat a drunk, thoughtless fuck-and-leave bandmate which one still can't help but love dearly, he lowered a babbling Roger down onto his bed. Or attempted to._

_Damned be Roger and his drunken stages of clinginess._

_In between giggles, unintelligible babbling and strong, stubborn arms, he held onto Brian's neck for dear life, refusing to lie the hell down and leave the lanky man be for the night._

_Brian could feel his warm breath against his neck and tried desperately to push the intruding memories away. It made him want to claw at the skin where touch once met and scrub it completely clean of all memories of silly butterfly kisses and ragged breaths and-_

_“I love you, Bri,” Roger muttered, chuckling stupidly. There it was, his affectionate drunk stage. Brian couldn't hate him if he tried. And boy, did he try._

_The bedroom's atmosphere was of a slight chill, sounds of drawers opening and closing, voices and light-hearted laughter in the room besides; in the band’s couple’s room. Brian could have felt bad that Roger had but an old cover to keep him warm at night._

_“Go to sleep, Roger,” he sighed, tiredly. The guitarist sometimes despised his wandering mind, sometimes it went too deep in._

_He simply couldn't help overthinking. Overthinking backwards, forward, up, down, left and right. Overthinking of overthinking. He couldn't help it. It often kept him out of trouble. Exterior trouble, that is. Internally, it kept him a hopeless mess._

_Unlike a certain someone, who had turned out to be the complete opposite._

_It took all he had, but he finally disentangled Roger's arms from his neck and lowered him down onto the bed, covering with the blanket._

_“I love youuu,” the blonde let out a hiccup and grinned, eyelids heavy._

_“I don't like you,” Brian shook his head. Suddenly, he felt all the tiredness in the world; his bones yellow and his mind worn out from a whole lifetime of 23 long, long years._

_“But I love you,”_

_And there it was; that cheeky, sleepy smile that made Brian miss what once was not a gesture to be blamed on drunkenness, but rather a genuine display of ‘I love you, mate, even if I act like a bit of a dork sometimes.’_

_Brian didn't think twice, this time._

_“I love you too, Rog.”_

_Roger's answer was a snore. And then another. Sweet dreams, then._

** … **

Brian shook the memory away.

This wasn't ideal.

At all.

It had taken a lot of careful planning and performing. Freddie had called Brian over a band emergency; Roger had finally hurried out of his ~~cave~~ room when Freddie told him "there's this girlfriend of yours waiting for you at the living room. Says she has some news."

Freddie, clueless, failed to see the true depth of such irony. 

From the chair, Freddie looked from Brian to Roger and so forth, a questioning raised eyebrow and his arms crossed. His very stance left no room for arguments, and if Brian didn't know better, he'd think Freddie suddenly developed these mind-reading powers and somehow read their minds and found out about everything.

No. He totally _didn't_ fear that Freddie could see past the mask he used. Not at all. He also didn't feel completely naked and exposed at the singer's questioning gaze. Why would he?

It also didn't help that he remembered the reason why he and Roger didn't want to be found out in the first place. As always, they differed, they collided; To Brian, those matters were _private_ – if that meant he was a prude, then very well he _was_. At least he still had some rightful shame still left in him, even if his dignity had gone down the drain just a couple of weeks ago. And maybe a little bit of his heart, too.

Roger was a whole different story, and Brian tried not to dwell on the fact that the drummer was rather embarrassed of, well, _him._

“Well?” Brian was snapped out of his self-absorption by Freddie’s voice. “Will you two sit down, or should I bring the rope?”

“I still have no idea why'd you bring us here,” if Brian had a shot for every time he sighed in frustration, he'd be drunk his arse off right then and there.

Still, begrudgingly, they sat.

“You know real well why.”

Hell yes, they did.

“I have a date in _fifteen minutes,_ Fred. If I run late because of you, I will _fry_ your balls,”

Of course, Roger would get all defensive. And of course, Freddie was able to read him like an open book.

Sometimes Roger hated that he knew him so fucking well.

Obviously, it did feel weird to hide a secret from Freddie. Roger would've thought that if he ever got it on with a guy, Fred would've been the first person to know about it; about every juicy detail.

But this was _Brian_ they were talking about.

Suddenly, his date seemed so far away. And he didn't even care to remember which girl it was, this time. _I need a girl right now. God._

Freddie's expression softened.

“Darlings, my mother raised no fool. I _know_ you. I've been your friend for _ages_ , now, and never before have I seen you grow so distant. Rog, I'm not blind. Don't think I haven't noticed how you've taken to avoid Brian at all costs when he's near. For goodness sake, he was even about to drive off and _leave_ you to walk home that other night at the studio!” Freddie leaned forward a bit. “I don't know what this is about, boys, but know that I'd love to help. You two love each other dearly, there's no doubt, and whatever happened between you two, you must work it out. For the band. For yourselves.”

Brian sighed deeply, while Roger rested his chin on his hand, still facing away from Brian. He didn't bother hiding his disdain; and it stung. However, there was that look of affliction in him.

He _wanted_ things to be the same, he _knew_ he fucked up. Hell yes, he did. Roger, despite what _others_ might think, _was_ capable of some thinking and reflecting if he tried. And the distance from his best friend really did hurt, intensely so. Heck, he'd even get on his knees and beg him - _wait_ , no, that sounded weird even to him, given the circumstances dealt-. _Never_ had he and Brian fought to this point; never had they been stuck in a similar situation and, to be honest, and he wasn't sure about what to even do. What if he screwed it up even more?

Which was why he still tried to rip the problem from the roots.

Still, both men had to admit, Freddie held a valid point. If not for themselves, then for the band’s sake. They had to ensure its future. It was already complicated enough when the actual _gays_ in the band fell into quarrel – Nevermind the curious idiots that took it a little too far!

“And I appreciate it, Fred, I really do,” the guitarist nodded, half-smiling. “I don't know what we did to deserve a friend like you. But… I-It goes deeper than some simple quarrel, and, to be sincere-“

Roger immediately turned and slapped Brian’s arm, alarmed.

“Shut up, mate, don't run your mouth!”

“I wasn't gonna- I wasn't even going to say _anything_ , Roger, what _is_ it with you?!”

_Oh, dear. These two will be the death of me._

Out the blue, an odd idea came to Freddie; suggested by John the night before, maybe as a joke, when all Freddie could do was wonder and worry and reflect. He knew better than to ignore it. For some reason, he felt it would be fitting; he felt it would help his friends. Would have to thank his darling later.

“You know, when John and I fight,” he started, earning their immediate attention. “We talk it out. Why don't you two try the same?”

“Why the hell d'you have to compare us to you and Deaky?

And there it was, again, Roger and his damned denial. Taking things the wrong way. Brian almost could have punched him for free.

“You don't have to talk it out yourselves, darlings. Talk to me.”

It didn't take long for both men to finally figure out what Freddie meant by that.

Freddie’s only hope. Nothing else occurred to him. _If this doesn’t work, I swear to gods._

“I don't know how that would help. If anything, I think that's bloody awkward,”

Roger _was_ being honest. There, it was admitted; something _was_ happening between them.

“ _Try_ it, boys. Trust me.”

They only needed a little push into the right direction.

Roger wouldn't give up so easily, though. That idea was stupid and desperate at best, and hopeless and counterproductive at worst. Did Freddie think himself some sort of relationships counselor? Because if so, he was doing a shit job.

“I'm _not-_ “

“Roger left me at a time when I needed him the most. When we both needed each other. I have never felt so disposable in my life.”

Two sets of eyes fell on him, and there was no way to take back his words. There. He had followed Freddie's advice. Brian knew better than to let pride get the best of him; if Roger didn't give the first step, then _he_ would.

Freddie's idea was silly. It was also the only kind of idea they had.

“I can see that whatever transpired between you boys made you drift apart, Rog.” Freddie continued, throwing more wood to the fire.

They were opening up so quickly that he almost thought they had already been longing to do so.

“I- I didn't _want_ it to come to this point, alright? I wouldn't have pushed away my own best mate, it just… it just got out of my hands.”

“It wasn't your intention, I reckon.” The singer nodded.

_Come on, Brian, say something._

“But then, if it wasn't his intention for it to come to this point, then _why_ bring it to this point in the first place? If he knew it _wasn't right?_ ” Ever the logical one, even when he wasn't being very logical; simply trying to shield his feelings.

“I do wonder that myself, too, darling,”

Freddie did genuinely wonder. And as Freddie expected, Roger promptly jumped in, wounded by him having sided with Brian now.

“Because I was _scared_ , alright? I-I don't _know_ what came over me that other night, and I didn't want to make things worse so I got away. It seemed- it seemed _logical_ back then! I-I never meant to take it this far, though!”

The drummer struggled with words, but Freddie could see he was being sincere. He wondered if Brian could see it, too. He also wondered if Brian’s side to the story could cancel out Roger's.

“Get away from the situation, darling?”

“From _me_.” Brian said.

Freddie still had no idea what, exactly, had transpired. Perhaps it was better that way – easier for him to remain neutral.

It still was no easy task.

To see Brian's evident hurt and Roger's genuine shame was to constantly switch sides, deep down. Still, he wouldn't show it. It would completely ruin everything.

“I can see you're both hurt by whatever happened,”

“ _Hurt_ is a very soft word to describe it. _Used_ would fit best, don't you think? Has a ring to it. I didn't feel this _bad_ until Roger made me feel like it was something to feel bad about. Stupid move, I guess. He tends not to be right about things most of the time.”

There was the bitterness to his tone; a bitterness Freddie rarely before, if ever, had heard in Brian. A personal bitterness, and it for sure came from emotions deeper.

“I see, dear,”

“And why not stop and wonder just how _I_ felt?” Roger shot back.

“We would’ve worked it out together! You felt that way because you _chose_ to feel that way,”

“How can I choose how to feel, Brian? Enlighten me! You're the genius, after all!”

 _The plan is going_ , Freddie thought. _Not quite smoothly, but it is going._

Brian and Roger had went from talking through each other to talking _to_ each other, for a start.

They were just also at each other's throats.

But he knew his friends very well. He knew where this would naturally lead, with no further need for outer intervention. His plan was going.

Freddie hoped it would work; it was all he could do, now.

It _had_ to work.

Roger wouldn't relent, and Brian wouldn't, either; it was stubbornness against stubbornness. _That_ they agreed on this time, unfortunately.

The guitarist, accusing; the drummer, pushing his faults. An endless cycle, and it hurt to even witness.

“If you were an actual good friend who cares a damn about me, you would’ve stopped and think of _why_ I did what I did!” Roger stood from the couch, accusing.

“And if _you_ were an actual good friend who cares a _damn_ about me, Roger, you would’ve thought of giving me reasons.” Brian stood too, all but defeated.

“Freddie, do you _hear_ what he's sa-”

They turned around to find that Freddie was nowhere to be seen.

_Great._

“Where did he go?”

“Hell if I know, Roger,”

“He can't leave me alone with this! Not _now_ ,”

“And why don't _you_ go away, too? It seems like that's all friends do these days,” Brian’s daring tone came.

Roger kicked at the coffee table, feeling anger building up inside. Brian was _really_ testing his limits.

“I _might,_ Brian!”

“Then be my guest,”

“All I need is for you to _understand_!”

“And _I_ needed _you_!”

Brian's voice broke. Something inside Roger did, too.

He sat, defeated, at the couch. There was no avoiding it, anymore. He _had_ to open up or else, he'd explode. And God knew what kind of things he'd do then.

_Brian had taken to picture often the reaction of his disappointed father, his pained mother. And he ached. Because he would've deserved every bit of that. He had acted on feelings instead of logical thought, which was something he had apparently taken to do as of late; that always came with consequences. But Brian still did it, he still slipped; he was only human, after all. A mortal little human who loved and trusted and gave._

_But he gave, maybe more than he should have; and now, he's run out._

_Roger was no better. He saw it as another consequence; His mind was troubled more often than not, and he hated it. He fucking_ despised _it. Because a busy mind was a torturing mind. He'd learned that long ago. One-night stands were what once helped him clear it, if only for a night. Now one of them was the cause of his stupid feelings. More of them should fix it, right?_

_Ignoring that one-night stand mate should do the trick, right?_

_Guess fucking not, when they played for the same band. And knew each other's presence for years._

_Being apart;_ this _was true loneliness._

_Their songwriting was thus affected. The others must have noticed._

_They often thought of themselves as having nothing to lose. They realized now that was just a workplace motto that kept them performing. Matters of flesh and heart were a whole different thing. Learned the hard way._

_(And oftentimes, they'd recall the feeling of the other's touch and it made them sick that it made them smile.)_

_It was scarring, it was exhausting; overtly so, over something that should have been either special or silly, depending on which boy thought of it._

_The emptiness that followed their estrangement gnawed at that special place in their hearts._

_There were so many things left unsaid._

_How to do it right, then?_

_Oh, to realize that it wasn't what happened, but rather, their treatment in the aftermath._

_(Please, don't you leave too.)_

The thing about true feelings, those left unsaid, is that they'd _always_ end up coming right out, sooner or later, either by will or by breaking point. This whole situation was the later, and this was likely the climax. And there were, of course, consequences of the breaking point.

Here he was now, in this little living room to this little flat, open and vulnerable in front of Roger; _to_ Roger.

_For the third time._

Roger looked down at him, honestly worried that his bandmate might just collapse. It _did_ look like he would. The drummer normally wouldn't have stopped and asked the person he was fighting with if he was alright, out of a genuine place of selfless worry.

And this time was no different, either. He just looked, expectant.

“After… after what we did, and you left for the bathroom, I was… mortified, you know? I-I needed answers. No regret, just _answers_. Then I would be in peace. It was all too fresh and too intense. I waited for you, but… you didn't come _back_.” He let all the pent-up feelings flow into the words that poured. Humorless laugh came after. “I felt like a fool. I felt many things, actually, but _used_ was one of them. And I _worried_ , too. I worried about you, Roger, and about what you could've been thinking about. About what foolish thing your mind could get you into. I knew you needed answers, too, and we had to figure it out together. Shouldn't have been _that_ hard. But then, suddenly you wouldn't let me in and-“

Brian buried his face into his hands, his curls hanging wildly.

“God, Rog, I thought I’d _lost_ you. Over something that, if anything, should’ve made us _closer,_ instead _._ And _that_ scared me like nothing else. To _lose_ you. That scared and hurt me to a breaking point. Rog, I know you don't view it, _sex,_ the same as I do, but… you're _special_ to me. Trusted you. So much that I gave you something I hardly would have given to anyone else in such circumstances. ” _And that trust went down the drain,_ went unsaid, but still hung heavy in the air. “I'm sorry if we differed, it… fuck, it was thoughtless of me. It was _never_ my intention for it to bring trouble. Just know that your absence _hurt_ me to no end.”

The silence was deafening. Brian refused to look up. He couldn't.

And in a second, Roger was on his knees, his hands grabbing at Brian's own and pulling them from his face, with a pained, devastated look in his own.

He could see it clearly, now.

_I caused that pain._

He held onto those string-worn hands for dear life, every trace of rage, -toward Brian,- faded up.

And it was all the remorse and all the love in the world, all in one; Brian could have broken right there and then.

“To _hell_ with the sex issues and my stupid doubts and this dumb fight, Bri, I care about _you_ ,” Roger was barely keeping it together. But he _needed_ to, this time. He couldn't keep pretending not to care. It would break them both. “I totally was an arsehole. I deserve your rage a-and your _hate_ and-“

“No, Rog- _no_ ,” Brian was no better. “I wouldn't… I wouldn't hate you. I couldn't, if I tried.” _And boy, did I try._

“I'm sorry.”

Brian finally looked at him, with his bloodshot eyes. A single tear slid down his cheek at first. This was the moment when he finally let them shed.

Roger was quick to wipe them away, ignoring his unshed own.

_I caused those tears._

“I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I was a coward who didn't want to face things. I left you alone over it and I'm _sorry._ Y-you never deserved that, Bri, and I'm- I'm _honored_. To have you as my friend. To have had your trust. It was so precious, Brian, so very fucking worth it, the way you gave it to me and all – and I went and ruined it all after. Because I didn’t think it through, and then I-I was selfish and _scared_. But please…”

There was only so much he could take, of seeing their guitarist so low. Because of _him._

_I'm only human, after all._

Hazel eyes met blue ones.

 _Fuck_ , he missed his friend.

“Brian. If you let me, I promise I'll do it all right this time,”

“Just _hug me **,**_ Roger.”

Roger didn't think twice. He never did, after all.

Both men choked on a sob as Roger promptly, thoughtlessly, pulled Brian into a strong embrace. They allowed themselves to breathe in the proximity, _finally,_ and _god_ , did they miss each other in ways they didn't even know existed.

Holding onto each other, dreading the moment it would end.

It didn't magically fix everything, but it was a start.

Through the tears, though, they had to smile.

Things weren't alright and most likely wouldn't be, for a while. Not all was talked through, not all was healed. Not everything was forgiven, nor were tensions completely vanished.

Brian was still deeply hurting, Roger was still severely doubting. Both had their war to fight, their own fixing to do; Both would take it arm in arm, with a smile and a tear, together. There were just so many things left to fix, so many words left to express. A bond to mend. (Because it was so strong that, through all, it was salvageable.)

They'd do it right. Neither knew how or even where to start; there was plenty of time and space to find out and perform it. But just for tonight, they held each other.

They had been up to much more intimate business before, anyway.

** … **

_Roger dreamed of a gentle giant, inviting, sat on a supernova, by the furthest away nebulosa._

_Brian dreamed of a bouncing ray of sunshine welcoming him into the exciting unknown._

_Both knew better than to turn them down._

**...**

“Shouldn't we wake them up?” John questioned with an amused smile. Freddie shook his head no.

The lead singer found it both heartbreaking and amusing. It remained a mystery to both him and John just _what_ , exactly, had went down for them to reach this point; but whatever it could be, he did know, with all certainty, that both men loved each other still, so deeply, deeply. He smiled with fondness, and had to bit back a guffaw when distantly recalling John having once joked about them ‘obviously’ belonging together.

Anyone who saw them _would_ think theirs was a lover's quarrel!

Roger laid curled up on the couch, an arm hanging, snoring soundly; little Lily rested well on his belly, purring and kneading softly. Brian sat at the floor, his back against the couch and his sleeping head rested on it, just beside Roger's slumbering form. Theirs didn't seem like a very light, very peaceful sleep; comfortable much less. But it was likely very much needed. It made him genuinely wonder of _what_ could have happened; of how many sleepless nights they had to endure, of what words could have been exchanged during his absence, that they had at least been on okay enough terms to fall asleep to each other's presence.

Freddie had to chuckle upon taking in the scene.

“Let’s let them sleep, sweetheart. They have countless nights of making-up ahead of them. For now, let’s let them have this one night to rest. They need it.”

John had to agree.

They had countless nights of hurried looks and awkward hello's ahead of them. Of begrudging apologies and half-hearted comebacks. Of very needed, very cathartic yells and hugs and heart-to-hearts. A _lifetime_ of nights, if fate allowed it. For now, they needed this one night of rest first; just this one. Together. It was a starter. It would help them; whatever happened between them, it was a long way to go.

 _They also deserve tomorrow’s neck pains_ , went unsaid.

The couple left for the night, taking in one last look at their sleeping bandmates.

Things between them would be so weird the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends. Bittersweet at best. The off-cameras and aftermath of all things portrayed I leave up to your imagination. I must admit I really enjoyed writing this, though it was not at all easy and likely not my master piece. I did my best. I'd like to sincerely thank QueenFanatics for letting me post this tribute work. Go read their fanfic!☺
> 
> I had posted this chapter already, but it was incomplete and seemed too rushed. But then again, this was meant to be a short thingy. I worked weeks on the first chapter; all that build-up and plot. This one is the climax. I'm also sorry to anyone who might have gotten to read the first version before I took it down. 😟 
> 
> Title taken from Don't Cry, by Guns n' Roses. The original version. I, likely subconsciously, based my work, (especially this second, final chapter,) in the song's lyrics as well. And I only just fully realized! Which is, well, something! - I hope it was at least a good "platonic" adaptation of sorts. I'd advice you to give it a listen - not just because it's kinda the fanfic's theme, but because it's really a fine tune!💗
> 
> Comments and kudos are really appreciated!


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